Movin' Out
by jesuisl0ser
Summary: Maureen and Joanne have another fight, and Maureen crashes at Mark and Roger's. Feeling alone, Joanne stays with Collins and Angel for a bit. It's up to Mimi, Roger, Mark, Angel, and Collins to bring Mo and Jo back together! MoJo. Completed.
1. Moving Out

**A/N: So this is my first MoJo fic. Please be kind...

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"Maureen, you're not going anywhere without apologizi—_MAUREEN_!" Joanne Jefferson called after her now ex-girlfriend as she stomped down the hallway.

Maureen apparently had no intention of ceasing her dramatic exit as she stormed out of the house. This was no different from any of their other fights, at least that was what it seemed to Joanne. Maureen had performed her usual act: yelling about how it was always Joanne's fault, packing her things and threatening to move in with Mark and Roger. It was the same old thing. And, honestly, Joanne was getting sick of it. The whole start of the fight had been petty and ridiculous: Maureen had complained about how Joanne was always working and that they never spent time together. Joanne denied this and said that they would be spending more time together if Maureen didn't decide to flirt with every human being that came her way and cause arguments between them. That comment set Maureen off like a teapot, howling on and on about how she didn't flirt with _everyone_...Joanne laughed bitterly at the thought.

The only thing different about this particular argument was that Maureen was actually acting on her threat. She was leaving. For real this time.

"Maureen...Maureen!" Joanne kept running, refusing to give up after all the effort she'd put into her relationship with drama queen Maureen.

Maureen finally whirled around, her curly brown hair swinging back and forth as she did so. "What do you want? And make it quick, Joanne, because I need a lot of time to make puppy-dog eyes and persuade Mark and Roger to let me stay with them so I don't have to _live with you_."

Joanne snorted. "Ha. As if they'd let you. You know how Roger is—"

"Just try and stop me," Maureen retorted. And before Joanne could protest, she was gone.

Joanne slowly turned around and made her way back toward the door.

"...Shit."

* * *

Mark Cohen literally almost spit the coffee back into his cup when Maureen explained her story and asked to crash at their loft for "just a little while" that afternoon.

Roger laughed. "You're moving out because Joanne was stating the truth?"

"_Ex-cuh-use_ me?!" Maureen huffed.

"You _do_ flirt with everything that moves. I can't blame her," was Roger's frank reply.

Maureen's eyes widened. "You _agree_ with _her_?! Whose side are you on, Roger? I've known you forever and you don't have the decency to—"

"Just crash here," Mark interrupted quietly.

Maureen smirked satisfactorily and turned to Mark, smiling at him. "Marky, did I ever tell you that you're adorable and cute and amazing?"

Mark blushed violently. "I wish you had," he blurted, and, realizing what he'd said, blushed once again.

"Fine. Whatever," Roger reluctantly agreed, "But you're sleeping on the couch and fendin' for yourself, Maureen. After all, you said you'd only be here for a little while, right?"

Maureen shrugged. "Depends. If Pookie realizes her mistakes quickly enough, then, yeah."

"Joanne better hurry her ass up and apologize..." Roger muttered before going back to his room to wait for Mimi to come home from work. Mark, still slightly blushing, scurried away to work on his film. Maureen let out a dramatic sigh and flopped down onto the tattered old couch.

"_I bet Pookie misses me already..."_ she thought.

* * *

Joanne gulped down her third cup of coffee in a row as she sat alone at The Life Café. When Joanne was upset, she drank coffee. When she was angry, she drank coffee.

When she was upset, angry, annoyed, and infuriated with Maureen Johnson, she drank coffee. It was a habit of hers. Black coffee with a little packet of sugar—Joanne Jefferson's therapy.

"...And she had no right to just walk out on me like that..." Joanne muttered to herself, staring resentfully at the bracelet Maureen had given to her not even two months earlier. "I'm not the one flirting with everyone in sight, am I? No. That's _her _problem. And I've addressed it many times, but do you think she listens? Would she actually listen to me? Hah. She barely even listens when I tell her that I love her...Good _God_. Mark, even though he's one helluva pipsqueak, was right about her...I shoulda never...Shoulda _never_...Dammit..."

Little did she know that her voice had become exceedingly louder with each passing sentence. She looked up, realizing that a waitress was standing in front of her, her eyes shifting back and forth awkwardly. "Can...I...uh...get you another coffee?"

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**TBC? That depends on you, the reviewers? Lovin' it? Hatin' it? R&R, please!!!**


	2. Joanne's Turn

**A/N: Really long chapter. Review? Please?

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Maureen Johnson sniffed loudly as Mimi poured her a cup of coffee the morning following the infamous "break-up". Maureen nodded a thank-you to Mimi, who smiled warmly.

"So, did you enjoy your night alone in the dark on the couch?" Roger snickered, looking up from reading _The Village Voice_ to smile wickedly at her.

Another sniff. "Shut up. I happened to enjoy my stay. I don't wanna see Pookie at the moment. Any place is better than home," Maureen replied. She glanced down at her coffee and made a gagging noise before dramatically closing her eyes and letting out a sigh.

Mark blinked. "You don't like coffee? Roger drank all of the orange juice." He glared at Roger, who was now occupied with munching on a chocolate chip cookie taken from the only_ Chips Ahoy!_ bag they had in the house, totally unaware of the potential problems he'd caused by drinking all of the orange juice. Mimi snatched the bag away and grabbed a cookie herself.

"No, it's just that Pookie—_Joanne_ drinks black coffee and I refuse to want to think about her at the moment." Maureen stuck out her tongue as she glanced at the dark, tasteless coffee with total and utter resentment.

Roger rolled his eyes. "Why don't you just add sugar and milk?"

Maureen shrugged, prompting Roger to raise his eyebrows and say, "Ah, I get it. You _want_ to be reminded of Joanne, don't you? You miss her already."

"Oh, shut it, Davis, I do _not_," Maureen said quickly, her eyes shifting from side to side.

"Do too."

"Roger, I'm seriously gonna hit you upside the head and you won't know what hit ya."

"I'd like to see you try, Mo."

"_Roger_!" Mimi interjected.

Mark scuffled over to Maureen and said, "Leave her alone, Rog," before grabbing her coffee cup to add some more sugar and some milk.

"Suck-up," Roger muttered under his breath. Mimi swatted his arm and put a finger to her lips to quiet him.

"At least_ you_ understand me, Marky. Not to mention, you're putting up with my staying here, unlike a certain person who is stuffing his face with cookies at the moment..."

"Whadayameanstuffingmyface?" Roger spat, cookie crumbs flying all over the place as he spoke.

Maureen stomped her foot and squealed, "Eew!"

"What the hell is wrong with eating chocolate chip cookies?!" retorted Roger after washing down his cookies with the remainder of his glass of milk. "God, you people are moody."

Mark chuckled. "You should talk."

"Shut up, Cohen."

* * *

If it hadn't been for the fact that Joanne kept reminding herself that none of this could have _possibly_ been her fault, she knew she would have lost her sanity a long time ago.

But now, as she sat in front of the television watching the news on one of her very few days off, she was beginning to wonder whose fault their falling-out truly was. Joanne had one hell of a temper, and she knew that very well—sometimes she couldn't control certain things she said. Usually, she was the first to admit when she was being cocky or arrogant.

All right, she'd admit it, finally—it wasn't _all_ Maureen's fault. After all, their relationship had been rocky even from the beginning. But Joanne had developed some hope that it would work out for the better.

She had been wrong, apparently. They were both so different from each other. In most relationships, Joanne knew, that was usually a good thing. But Joanne being the control freak and Maureen being the flirty drama queen just didn't fit. That was the only logical explanation Joanne could think of.

All she knew for sure was that it had been one hell of a long night without Maureen.

Just as she turned the television off, the telephone rang. Joanne sighed and trudged over to answer it: "Hello, Joanne Jefferson speaking." She held her breath, hoping that it wasn't Maureen on the other line ready to scream at her for one reason or another.

"Hi, Joanne," chirped the voice on the other line.

Joanne breathed a sigh of relief. "Angel. Thank _God_."

* * *

"Oh, my goodness..._You're kidding_!...Oh, Joanne, honey, I'm so sorry..." Angel Dumott Schunard twirled the phone extension chord around her fingers while holding the phone with the other hand, a look on her face that was somewhere between shock and disgust.

Collins stalked into the living room/kitchen in their tiny apartment, planting a kiss on the top of Angel's head. She absently touched his hand to signify that she knew he was there. He plopped down on the couch beside her and tried to listen in on the conversation.

"That's terrible..." A pause. "...I _know_! I wish you and Maureen would give it another shot..."

It was then Collins knew who Angel was talking to. Joanne. _They must've had another fight..._

"Oh, it must've been! Oh, sweetie...Why don't you come over for a little while? I'm sure it's tough being all by yourself right now...Of course! Okay, I'll see you in a little while. Bye!"

Angel hung up the phone and turned to Collins. "You won't believe this, Tom. Joanne—"

"Got in a fight with Maureen, who decided to crash at Mark and Roger's, and now Jo's all by herself and is totally and utterly depressed," Collins finished for her.

Angel blinked. "And you know this how...?"

"Baby, I've known Maureen for years. And I know what her relationship with Joanne is like by now." Collins chuckled.

But Angel's expression was serious. "They broke up, and I feel terrible...So I invited Joanne over so she's not all alone."

"How thoughtful of you," Collins teased, leaning over to give Angel a kiss.

But Angel put a finger to his lips and shook her head. "Not right now, Mister. Later. Joanne will be here any minute."

"Dammit." Collins mock-huffed and crossed his arms. "You like her more than me; is that it?"

Angel giggled, wrapping her arms around Collins' neck. "I can tell you one thing—I like you more than this adorable pair of shoes I'm wearing, which definitely says something..."

"Thanks, Ang. I feel so loved." The doorbell rang just as Angel was about to state a sly retort to Collins' comment. Angel hopped over to the door, and, right after opening it, pulled Joanne into a sympathetic hug.

Collins walked over and said, "How ya doin' Jo? I'm really sorry...Maureen's just..._Maureen_, y'know?"

"Don't I ever," Joanne muttered. "But I guess I can't complain...at least I don't have her running around screaming at me...but I guess it can get pretty lonely..." She took it upon herself to flop onto the couch, Angel running over to sit beside her. "I have an idea." Angel's eyes sparkled brightly. "If she wants to rub it in your face that she's staying with Mark and Roger, why don't you stay with us for a little bit?"

Joanne looked flabbergasted for a moment. "I...I couldn't...I mean, no. _No_. I've been a burden enough."

"Oh, hush," Angel replied with a wave of her hand. "Why not? I'd like to see how things turn out...Maybe Maureen will realize that she misses you just as much as you miss her and then she'll come back. Plus, Collins and I wouldn't want you to be all by yourself. Right Collins?"

Collins just shrugged, prompting Angel to nudge him with her elbow. "Ow! Um...Yeah, right!"

Joanne sighed. "God, I don't know...Um...If it's really not too much trouble..."

"Of course not," Angel chirped happily. "You can make yourself at home."

"Thank you so, _so_ much, Angel—and a very reluctant Collins," Joanne said, smirking at Collins who held up his hands innocently.

"Reluctant? Me? Yeah, right."

Joanne could only hope that her fight with Maureen could be patched up and that she'd be rejoined with her once more—somehow, some way.


	3. Do You Miss Her?

**A/N: 10 reviews; not bad. Keep reviewing, guys, it's what keeps me going. I hope you all had a great holiday! Enjoy!

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"Joanne, could you pass me the salt?...Thank you, honey."

It had been three full days since the temporary moving-in of Joanne Jefferson into Collins and Angel's apartment. Joanne, out of boredom, would help Angel out in the kitchen every time there was a meal that needed to be prepared when she got home early from work. Collins would always still be at NYU so he couldn't help out, and Joanne figured she owed Angel a lot.

Cooking and baking, Joanne had observed over the past few days, were very serious hobbies to Angel and were not taken lightly. The recipes had to be followed precisely, and there was rarely any conversation, as Angel was so concentrated.

Yet, she was the first one to speak up in between the occasional 'pass-me-this' or 'pass me that', or the brief 'thank you'. "Do you miss her yet?"

Joanne didn't even look up from setting the table. "Miss who?"

"_Maureen_, sweetheart. You remember her? Long curly hair, bright brown eyes, speaking voice that could shatter windows, nice figure——"

"All right! I get it, Angel! And, for the record, I _don't_ miss her," Joanne replied, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyebrows. Angel smirked. She knew that look. Joanne was hiding something. Angel decided to push on: "Not even a little bit?"

"Nope."

"A _tiny_ bit?"

"Nope."

Angel placed her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand. "...A lot?"

"_Angel_!"

Angel batted her eyelashes innocently and winked. "What?"

"Please, don't. Okay?" Joanne looked slightly hurt, prompting Angel to nod sympathetically.

"Sure, sweetie...But if you need to talk, I'm here, okay?"

Joanne just nodded before heading out of the kitchen and into the study-room-turned-guest-bedroom. She needed some time alone.

* * *

Mimi Marquez sat cross-legged on her bed, carefully painting her fingernails a bright shade of pink. Maureen sat beside her, munching on a pretzel and reaching into the pretzel bag to grab another.

"So...do you miss Joanne yet?" Mimi inquired.

_Maybe._ "Of course not! Why would I? She's self-centered, controlling, mean..."

Mimi shrugged, waving her hands around to dry the nail polish. "Mo, you're not the easiest person to please. Maybe Joanne just got tired of ——"

"Oh, God, Mimi, you don't actually _believe_ her, do you?! I am very easy to please. All I need is love, attention, and sex...And shoes...and money...and...Dammit."

Mimi giggled, running a hand through her friend's hair and flinging an arm around her shoulders. "You think you should talk to her?"

"I actually have an answer to that question that might do something for you, Mimi," Maureen replied.

"Really? What's the answer?"

"_NO_."

* * *

Joanne lay sprawled out on the couch/bed, staring up at the ceiling. What were the chances of her and Maureen getting back together again? She felt almost hopeless. Closing her eyes, she looked back on some of the good times she'd had with her drama-queen girlfriend.

"_Pookie," Maureen squealed, resting her head on Joanne's shoulder as they sat on the couch watching a movie, "Do you know how this movie ends?"_

"_My lips are sealed."_

_Maureen smirked, leaning up and giving Joanne a kiss on the lips gently. "Are they still sealed?"_

"_Hmm," Joanne muttered, pretending to contemplate that question, "Yeah. Maybe a few more kisses'll do it."_

_Kiss. "Nope. Still sealed."_

_Another kiss. "Close, Maureen; you're very close."_

_Even bigger kiss. "The dog dies and the kid gets a new one."_

"_Thank you," Maureen said before snuggling up against Joanne again._

_A pause._

"_Wait, the cute wittle doggie dies? _Joanne_! Why'd you ruin it for me?!"_

_Joanne chuckled. "You wanted to know, so I told you!"_

"_Hmph," was Maureen's mock-annoyed reply. "Now I guess we're gonna have to turn the TV off and cuddle instead, because _you_ ruined the ending for me."_

_Smirking wickedly, Joanne said, "Well, I suppose if we have to..."_

Joanne realized that there were tears in her eyes. Wiping them away quickly, she was just about to get up when there was a knock on the door.

"Hey, Jo, it's Collins...Angel says that dinner's ready..."

She walked over to the door and opened it to find Collins standing there. "Oh, there you are! I thought you died or somethin'..."

Joanne laughed. "No, I'm here, all in one piece, Collins." She tried not to let him notice how red her eyes were from crying.

"Hey," Collins said quietly, trying to catch his friend's eye, "You okay?"

Joanne sniffed and nodded. "I'm fine...Thanks," she replied.

"...You miss her?"

"Why does _everyone_ keep asking me that?"

Collins chuckled warmly. "Sorry. Maybe some spaghetti will make ya feel better..."

"Oh, yes; Thank God for food!" Joanne said happily, and Collins put a comforting hand on her shoulder as they headed into the kitchen.


	4. Plans Fall Through

**A/N: Thanks for all the kind reviews, everybody! Any questions, comments, concerns, issues—post 'em in a review or PM me! Thanks, enjoy!  
****DISCLAIMER THAT I STATE WHEN I ACTUALLY REMEMBER: I do not own RENT. The genius that is the late Jonathan Larson does. The end.

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Mimi Marquez let out a pleased, evil cackle as she shifted the telephone from her right ear to her left. "Angel, chica, they won't be able to resist each other by the time we're through with 'em...Uh-huh...Okay...Bye!"

Hanging up the phone with a loud _click_, Mimi sprang up from the couch and literally hop-skipped into Roger's bedroom.

"_Rogerrrrr_," she taunted, slowly walking across the messy hardwood floor and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Roger, who was munching on a sandwich he'd prepared for himself, stared down at her blankly. "What?"

"Angel and I just thought of a way to get Maureen and Joanne back together!" Mimi said proudly.

Roger almost spit out his sandwich, coughing and choking for a few seconds before crying out, "What? Are you _crazy_?! Whatever it is, Mimi, it isn't gonna work. Both of 'em are too stubborn. You and Angel are gonna be pulling your hair out, trust me."

"And since when are you such an expert at this?" Mimi challenged.

"I once tried to get Maureen back together with Mark when they got in a fight a year or so ago...It was hell, Mimi. Total hell. She's one stubborn, crazy person..."

Mimi laughed. "You're lucky she's out of the house shopping, Roger, because if she heard that you would be _so_ dead."

"I'm warning you, Mimi. Be careful with what you're dealing with, here. Understand?"

Mimi blew off his comment with a wave of her hand. "_Puh-lease_...Don't you wanna know what the plan is?"

Roger thought for a moment, popping the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. "...No. I think I'll pass on that one."

"Why?"

"Honestly, Mimi," he said, kissing her nose playfully, "I'm _afraid _to know."

* * *

Angel Dumott Schunard sprinted into the bedroom, pouncing on the bed where Collins was reading a book.

"Hi, honey!"

Not looking up from his book, Collins muttered, "Oh, hey, baby...Who the hell were you on the phone with for so long?"

Angel smirked. "Mimi and I have thought of a perfectly marvelous, _genius_ idea."

Collins finally looked up. "Do I want to know?"

"Of course you do!" Angel said happily, scooting over to rest her head on Collins' chest. "We're gonna get Maureen and Joanne back together!"

Collins chuckled, shaking his head. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

"Oh, it's simple. We're gonna _force_ them hang around with each other. They won't have a choice. Mimi's inviting everyone over tomorrow night at 7:00, and our plan will go into action."

Collins shrugged. "I don't get it."

"Oh, you _men_ don't understand how we think," Angel teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Collins blushed, bringing his book back up to his face to hide it.

"You really are _so_ cute when you blush, hun."

* * *

Joanne Jefferson briskly walked behind Angel and Collins as they headed to the loft for the infamous "get-together" that would supposedly, little did she know, get herself and Maureen back together. She glanced over at the happy couple. Angel was holding Collins' hand and swinging it back and forth absentmindedly, and Collins was laughing heartily at something she'd said. Joanne missed holding hands with Maureen. Collins and Angel's relationship was so genuine...it was how she wished she and Maureen could've been if they'd tried hard enough.

She walked faster to catch up with them, and Angel turned to her: "Hey, Joanne, we thought we lost you for a while, dear."

"Is...is Maureen going to be there?"

"Of course she is! She's staying with Mark and Roger, remember?"

A pause. "Shit."

Collins snorted, and Angel nudged him in the elbow to tell him to be quiet. "It won't be so bad, sweetie, don't worry!"

If only she knew.

* * *

Once they entered Mark and Roger's loft through the sliding door, all hell broke loose.

"Hi Collins! Hi Angel! Hi Joanne!" Mimi's voice became more shrill with each greeting as she ran over and hugged each of them. She winked at Angel before letting Mark and Roger say their hello's.

Maureen was sitting on the couch, examining her painted fingernails—that is, until she looked up and saw her ex-girlfriend standing in the doorway. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Maureen got up and wandered to the other side of the room.

"Okay, everybody, sit down," Mimi ordered. Angel quickly grabbed a spot on the couch, pulling a confused Collins along with her. Mark walked over and sat beside them, leaving the chairs that had been set up for Mimi, Roger, Maureen, and Joanne.

Mimi sat down beside Roger, leaving the last two chairs for none other than Maureen and Joanne. They both stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, refusing to look at each other.

"Aren't you two gonna sit down?" Angel inquired innocently. Joanne nodded and sat in one of the chairs, leaving Maureen to reluctantly walk over and sit next to her.

_Perfect_, Mimi thought, smiling to herself.

Conversation had already begun amongst the seven friends. Even Maureen and Joanne had small talk occasionally, but neither of them said more than a few words to each other. Mimi and Angel were simply ecstatic that their plan was working. Or so they thought.

"You know," Maureen muttered, gulping down her bottle of beer, "I hope you don't think this whole thing means we're back together."

Joanne blinked. "...Excuse me?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Maureen said curtly. "The small talk means nothing."

"I never really thought it meant anything in the first place, Maureen, so please, just drop it, okay?" snapped Joanne, looking away from her ex-girlfriend.

Maureen threw her head back in a loud, sarcastic laugh, prompting everyone else to stop in mid-sentence and stare at the bickering pair.

"I don't know why you make such a big damn deal out of everything, Maureen. I just thought it was great that we were at least on speaking terms. I know we're not together anymore. But, good _God_, you don't need to be harassing me!"

"Me? Harassing _you_?! You were the one trying to talk to me this whole night! Didn't you see me trying to ignore you?"

Mimi and Angel shared a look of horror, Mark shook his head, Roger tried to hide an amused smirk, and Collins drank some Stoli and tried to tune them all out.

Joanne was quiet for a moment. "I just thought we could...talk. Like_ normal_ people do."

Maureen's eyes widened. "Are you calling me abnormal?!"

"See what I mean? You make a big deal out of every comment I make. Why don't you just keep your mouth shut and stop making assumptions?"

"Why don't you just get the hell out of here and maybe we'll talk...let's say...never? Is that good for you?"

Joanne stood up and went over to get her coat. "Works for me!" she shouted, her eyes filled with tears. And with that, she stormed out the door.

There was nothing but silence after that. No one knew what to say for a long time until Mark suggested, "So, who wants to play Scrabble?"

He received only glares in return.

"I guess that's a no, then."


	5. Aftermath

**A/N: Last chapter was very emotional. So is this one. Have fun! LOL  
****DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. RENT is owned by the late, great Jonathan Larson.

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Angel and Collins quietly entered their apartment. All the lights were off.

"Is she here?" Angel whispered in the darkness. The 'she' in question happened to be Joanne Jefferson, who had just stormed out of Mark and Roger's loft in the heat of an argument that had sprung up with her ex-girlfriend. After her exit, Maureen had stomped off to Mimi's room and shut the door with a loud _SLAM!_. Angel and Collins left soon after. The whole evening had been ruined—and Angel hoped that Mark didn't end up playing Scrabble all by himself.

Yet, that was the least of her worries as she fumbled around for the light switch, Collins resting his hand on her shoulder absentmindedly.

"She should be," he answered as the lights flickered on throughout the entire house. "Probably in the study room."

Angel sighed, throwing her purse and coat on the couch. "I'll go talk to her."

Collins nodded, and just as Angel was starting to walk away, he grabbed her hand, pulling her into his arms, smiling down at her. "Careful, baby. She's probably crazy-emotional right now." He leaned down and gave her a loving kiss, prompting Angel to beam happily.

"That was a good-luck kiss, Ang."

Angel laughed. "Thanks, honey."

Wandering into the study room, Angel found Joanne sitting on the bed/couch with her face in her hands. Angel walked over and sat down beside Joanne and put an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Jo, sweetie," Angel said softly, "I feel so awful..." She bit her lip guiltily.

Joanne looked up. "Why, Angel? It wasn't your fault."

Angel gulped. "It kinda..._was_. Mine and Mimi's. We purposely got everyone together at the loft in hopes of getting you two back together...but...that fell through," she said hesitantly, praying silently that Joanne wouldn't go ballistic.

But she was calm. "You really didn't have to do that, Angel...I mean, it was nice of you and all..." Joanne muttered, and, after taking a deep breath, continued, "...But nothing is going to change _her_. Never."

"I know Maureen is stubborn, Joanne...I know she is. But you just have to think positive. Things will work out eventually," reassured Angel, brushing a strand of fake dark hair behind her ear.

"How do you do it, Angel?" Joanne asked after a long moment of silence.

"Do what?"

Joanne shrugged, looking her friend in the eye. "Think the way you do. You're always so...happy. Full of life. You and Collins have something that I wish Maureen and I could have."

Angel shook her head, smiling. "But, honey, you've had it all along."

"What?" Joanne looked at Angel in confusion.

"In your heart. Maureen has it too, but she just doesn't realize it right now. You both have something that's too special to walk away from," Angel answered.

Joanne never liked to cry. She never did when she was younger, and even now she didn't consider it to be something she would do on a daily basis, unlike a certain drama queen she knew. But soon she found herself embracing Angel, crying silently into her shoulder.

Something was telling her that it was okay to cry this time.

* * *

Maureen had awakened with a terrible headache that she knew had been caused by a combination of the amount of beer she'd consumed and the fact that she had been crying all night.

Crying over her ex-girlfriend, whom Maureen thought she was "over". But Maureen was far from being "over" Joanne Jefferson. Though she tried to deny it in front of her friends, Maureen missed Joanne more than ever.

Especially since she knew how much she'd screwed up the night before.

_Why did I have to yell at her like that?_ Maureen thought to herself bitterly. It had been a stupid mistake. Of course, they were still on bad terms and there wasn't a chance in Maureen's mind that she would ever get back together with Joanne. After that incident the night before, Maureen figured that Joanne probably didn't even want to see her face anymore.

"Hey, um...Maureen..." a voice muttered, breaking Maureen out of her trance. Mark was standing in front of her as she sat cross-legged on the couch. "Are you okay?"

Maureen let out a nervous giggle. "Sure, Marky! Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well..." Mark's eyes shifted back and forth. "Y'know...last night? With Joanne?"

"Oh, that," Maureen said nonchalantly with a wave of her hand, "It's nothing. Don't worry."

There was silence after that, until Maureen decided to break the silence with a simple question:

"Marky?"

"...Uh-huh?"

"Wanna play Scrabble with me?"

Maureen could tell by the look on her ex-boyfriend's face that Mark couldn't have been happier to play scrabble with anyone else in the world.

They amused themselves by creating ridiculous words on that silly old board game. At one point, Mark spelled the word "LOVE" on the board out of the "O" in a word that Maureen had spelled out on the board. She looked up at him briefly, and detected a blush on his pale skin.

Something was telling Maureen Johnson that the"L-O-V-E" wasn't just a word that had been spelled out letter by letter on a game board with the letters Mark had been given as part of the game.

There had to be something more.


	6. Scrabble and a Phone Call

**A/N: Big props to everyone reviewing so far! Enjoy this chapter! I'm including jealousy in it because one of my friends got to meet _Kristin Chenoweth_ the other night. -sad!face- So, in case you haven't noticed, I'm jealous...I'll be going to New York this summer for my graduation present, but I just can't WAIT, you know? -sigh-  
****DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. RENT belongs to the late, great Jonathan Larson.

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Scrabble. It was an everyday aspect of Maureen Johnson's life now.

She would come back to the loft from shopping or from a walk around the block to find herself crying over reasons unknown to her.

Well, maybe _partially_ unknown to her. Tearing herself away from Joanne was difficult as all hell.

To solve her problems, she would go straight to Mark Cohen. And he would pull out the Scrabble board. They'd play a game or two, having conversations about nothing in particular, laughing at nothingness and making up words of their own on the board whether it would totally ruin the game or not.

It was a way for both of them to get away from the world. Maureen had never known that ex-boyfriends could be so helpful. Of course, she knew Mark was in his glory playing Scrabble with her—it was obvious that he still had feelings for her. Ever since he'd written "L-O-V-E" on the Scrabble board that day and gazed into her eyes with that certain look of his, Maureen had been sure of it. But she didn't exactly feel that way for him anymore.

But flirting with him was always fun.

"Marky, have I ever told you that you have _bea-u-tiful_ eyes?" she inquired, smirking at him.

Mark blinked, straightening his glasses. "Um...uh...you might have, but I can't remember...uh...Thanks."

"Welcome." Maureen was quite amused by the confused look on Mark's face. He opened his mouth to say something else when the telephone rang.

"I'll get it!" Maureen squealed happily, as if Roger would actually step foot out of his room or Mark would get up from staring at her to answer the phone.

"Hello?" she called into the phone.

"...Maureen?" It was none other than Joanne Jefferson's voice on the other line. "What the hell?"

Maureen huffed dramatically and replied, "In case you forgot about me already, I am living at Mark and Roger's at the moment, which means that I have a right to answer the phone, don't I? You gonna sue me for that?"

She heard a sigh on the other line. "Don't even start with me. Just put Mark on the phone, will you? Angel told me to call for her because she's making cookies."

"Oh, I'm sure you're having fun making cutesy little cookies, huh?" Maureen retorted. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mark, Mimi, and Roger gathered not too far away, anxiously listening in on the conversation.

Maureen rolled her eyes and motioned for them to go away. Mimi took Roger's hand and dragged him back into the bedroom, and Mark walked back over to the couch where the Scrabble game was set up.

"For your information, just because I'm living with Angel and Collins doesn't mean I'm running around in a frilly skirt with my hair blowing in the wind, getting manicures once a week, and running around singing 'I Feel Pretty'. My lifestyle hasn't changed. I'm still the same person. I can see you are too, since you're yelling at me for God knows what reason."

Maureen was silent for a moment. "I'll put Mark on the phone."

"Gee, thanks. Took you long enough."

Maureen handed the phone over to Mark and flopped on the couch. They couldn't even have a minute's worth of a conversation without getting into an argument. At this point, Maureen wasn't sure whether to blame herself or Joanne for that.

* * *

"So you talked to her on the phone and she went wacko on you?" Collins asked, munching on a french fry. He, Angel, and Joanne had gathered at The Life Café that night. Joanne had just finished telling Collins and Angel about the little incident on the phone.

Joanne nodded, sipping her iced tea. "Wacko is a great way to put it, Collins." She glanced over at Angel. "She thinks you're rubbing off on me."

Angel shrugged. "Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing..."

Collins snorted, almost spitting out his water. "Angel, baby, are you _serious_?! Try picturing our Joanne here wearing one of your many outfits, giggling all the time and calling everyone 'honey'...It's disturbing."

Angel swatted her boyfriend's arm. "Are you _mocking_ me?"

Joanne chuckled. "No, I think he's just pointing out that because I'm such a polar opposite of you, it would be freaky if I started _acting_ like you."

"Fine. I'll accept that," Angel muttered, pretending to look hurt. Collins leaned over and gave Angel a kiss, and every single "offensive" comment he'd made had been forgotten.

Joanne took a bite out of her sandwich and waited for Angel and Collins to finish their little make-out session.

"Are you two finished?" she asked when Collins returned to his soy burger and Angel reached for her strawberry milkshake.

Angel giggled. "...Yes," she replied, blushing.

Collins stretched out in his chair, kicking up his feet on the table. "Jo, you'll get back together with her; you'll see. Maureen goes through phases. I've known her long enough to realize that when she loves someone, she goes through a period of loathing them with a passion."

Joanne smiled. "I hope you're right, Collins. I really hope you're right." She sighed heavily. "I need a beer. Who's with me?"

Angel raised her hand, and Collins laughed. "You said it, girl. I'm in."

Joanne said a quiet prayer of thanks that Collins and Angel were around...Otherwise, she would have cracked under pressure a long time ago.


	7. Supermarket Blues

**A/N: Enjoy this chapter!  
****DISCLAIMER: Rent belongs to the late, great Jonathan Larson. Therefore, it does not belong to me.

* * *

**

Joanne Jefferson popped a piece of bread into the toaster. She was accustomed to the "rules of the house" at Collins and Angel's home. Spending a week and a half there had taught her quite a lot. One of these particular rules was that whoever awoke first in the morning had to make breakfast. So, as Joanne had been the first person up that morning, she was preparing eggs and toast for the three of them.

She glanced at the clock briefly. It read ten o'clock. Joanne found this quite peculiar, as Angel was usually "up with the chickens" every morning.

_Maybe they were a little occupied last night..._ she thought to herself. As soon as she'd realized what she had been thinking, she shook her head abruptly. _I have too much of a dirty mind...I guess that aspect was passed on from hanging around with Maureen too much..._

Joanne sighed heavily. Keeping Maureen out of her mind had proven to be quite difficult. Just as she was about to spread jelly on the toast that had just reappeared out of the toaster, Collins entered the kitchen, a solemn look on his face. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked as if he would fall asleep right on the floor.

"Good morning," Joanne said brightly, hoping that somehow a cheerful disposition would help.

Collins sighed, sinking down into a chair at the table. "Don't plan on making breakfast for three, Jo. Angel's not feeling too well..."

Joanne immediately looked up from the plate she was preparing. "What's wrong? Is she okay?"

"Well..." Collins shrugged. "She has her good and bad days, you know? I'm really worried about her," he muttered, "I was up all night with her 'cause she was shivering so much..."

Joanne shook her head. "Poor thing..."

Collins just nodded in agreement. After a long moment of silence, Joanne thought that the only thing she could do about this was offer some help. "Is there anything I could do to help you out?" She glanced at her friend, who was pretty much falling asleep on the kitchen table.

"...Collins?"

"Huh? Oh...no, no...I just have to go to _SuperMart_ in a couple of hours for grocery shopping and—"

Joanne interrupted him and cried, "I'll do it!"

Collins shook his head. "Joanne, you don't have to—"

"Collins, you need some rest," Joanne remarked matter-of-factly, "I'm going. Just give me the grocery list."

* * *

Roger Davis strolled over to the couch where Maureen was sitting reading a magazine. He threw a small piece of paper at her, crossing his arms and waiting for her to realize he was there. 

After approximately ten seconds, Maureen looked up from her oh-so-interesting magazine to glare at him. "What?"

Roger gestured to the paper that had fallen on the couch next to her. "Do something useful with your life, Maureen. Go grocery shopping for us."

A loud, dramatic groan was what he received in reply. He rolled his eyes, prompting Maureen to give him her infamous puppy-dog-eyes.

"That's not gonna work with me, Maureen. It probably works with Mark, who, by the way, makes goo-goo eyes at you when you're not looking, but it sure as hell doesn't work with me," Roger replied firmly.

Maureen blinked a couple of times and then pouted. "Fine. _Fine_." It was her turn to cross her arms, now.

"You're lucky the list isn't very long."

"Hmph. Whatever. You so owe me, Roger."

Roger laughed bitterly. "As if letting you and your obnoxious, conceited self stay here for a week and a half to date isn't enough..."

Maureen giggled. "You know you love me, though," she said in a tone of mock-innocence.

Roger ignored that comment as he walked back to his bedroom. "Have fun at _SuperMart_!"

A pause. "...Shut up."

* * *

"Hmm..Milk, check...Sugar...check! Wait...AHA! Gotta find those damn barbeque chips that Angel likes so much..." 

Food shopping was always a complicated task for Joanne. She always ended up forgetting something on the list and would have to go back and find it.

_Well, at least this is good exercise_, she thought.

But then something happened that made this particular trip to _SuperMart_ a whole lot more complicated.

As she was grabbing the bag of Utz chips, there was a loud _CLANG!_ as another carriage rammed into hers. Joanne sighed and turned around, ready to mutter a simple "Sorry" or "Excuse me", only to find that when she looked up, she was staring into the eyes of none other than Maureen Johnson.

_Oh, shit._

"Well, well, well," Maureen squealed with a smirk, "If it isn't Joanne Jefferson!"

Joanne tightened her grip on the handle of the carriage. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Maureen blinked. "Did what?"

"Bump into me. You almost knocked all of the groceries out of the damn carriage. How immature could you possibly be?!" Joanne snapped, her eyebrows furrowed in anger as she glared at her ex-girlfriend.

"I did not do that on purpose, for your information! And what are you doing here, anyway?" was Maureen's curt reply.

"I was just about to ask you the same question. You haven't ventured into a supermarket in years. You always make me do all the shopping."

Maureen rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Roger sent me here. What's your excuse? Are you stalking me or something?"

"As if. I'm doing the shopping for Collins and Angel," Joanne muttered, biting her tongue to keep from literally attacking Maureen.

Maureen chuckled dryly. "Oh, aren't you Miss Goody-Goody?! I bet you——"

"Angel's sick, Maureen."

Maureen fell silent for a moment. "Is she...um...How sick is she? Is she okay?"

"What the hell do you care, Maureen? All _you_ care about is yourself. I bet Roger had to beg you to come here to go shopping for a freakin' hour. Screw you. I have to get outta here..." And with that, Joanne pushed her carriage around Maureen and walked as quickly as she could, leaving Maureen standing in the middle of Aisle 4 with tears in her eyes.


	8. Getting Closer

**A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews!  
****DISCLAIMER: Rent belongs to the late, great Jonathan Larson.

* * *

**

"...And I just..._left_. God, I am such an idiot..." Joanne muttered, sitting on the edge of Angel's bed with her legs drawn up to her chest. She rested her chin on her knee and let out a sigh.

Angel was sitting cross-legged on the bed with the covers wrapped around her, donned in one of Collins' shirts and a pair of jeans. "Was she crying?"

Joanne thought for a moment before finally speaking: "I hope not. Then she'd draw attention to the workers at the store. She does that a lot, you know. One time we went out to dinner and she started bawling her eyes out...the waiter came over and everything. How embarrassing is _that_?"

Angel laughed weakly. When Joanne had reached the apartment after the supermarket incident, she'd found Angel lying on the couch, trembling and coughing. It had hurt Joanne tremendously to see her friend in so much pain. Collins had gone out to pick up some medication for her at that time and she hadn't been able to receive any help until Joanne had arrived. But, knowing Angel, Joanne decided not to talk about it, because she knew very well that Angel would find some way to change the subject. She already had.

"Joanne, maybe it's for the better that you two are..." Angel coughed loudly and then continued, "...Separated for a little while. Every time you see each other you start arguing. When Collins and I get into a fight—"

"Which isn't very often," Joanne interjected bitterly.

Angel sighed. "Honey, that's not my point. I was gonna say that when we do argue it's because we just need a little time apart. Collins usually only needs a couple of hours alone before he comes running back, and we apologize to each other...Soon he's literally attacking me with kisses and ready to rip my damn skirt off..."

"Okay, _way_ too much info," Joanne joked, chuckling, "You have a dirty mind even when you're sick, Angel."

Angel just smirked, a twinkle in her tired eyes. "I know."

* * *

Maureen Johnson slowly pressed the telephone to her ear, every muscle in her body tense, her teeth grinding with anger. "No way in hell she's gonna get away with this," she mumbled as she punched a certain phone number on the dial, "No way in hell."

A voice from behind her brought Maureen out of her moment. "...Maureen? What are you doing?" Mimi was standing behind her, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"None of your business," Maureen said loudly, shooing Mimi away with a wave of her hand.

Mimi rolled her eyes. "Mo, I'm not a fly, thank you very much. What are you doing?"

"Ask Mark."

Mimi blinked. "...What?"

"Ask Mark," Maureen repeated.

Shaking her head, Mimi wandered away from Maureen and took it upon herself to go into Mark's room.

"Hey, Mark," Mimi greeted her friend, sitting down on the bed where Mark was tampering with a roll of film. "What's Maureen doing?"

Mark looked up, straightening his glasses. "Maureen didn't tell you about what happened at the supermarket?"

Mimi leaned in, her eyes aglow. "_Do_ tell, Marky."

"Well, see, Maureen ran into Joanne in Aisle 4 at _SuperMart_..."

* * *

No sooner did Thomas B. Collins walk through the door when the phone rang. He sighed heavily, throwing the small pharmacy bag that contained Angel's fever-reducing pills on the couch before picking up the phone.

"What?" he grumpily answered, not particularly giving a damn who or where the call was coming from.

"Hey, Collins, guess who?" a perky voice replied on the other line.

Collins sighed. "Maureen, what do you want?"

Maureen ignored his question and inquired, "How's Angel?"

"Not good. What do you want?" Collins asked once again. He turned to see Angel and Joanne walking toward him. He smiled at the sight of Angel, who happily ran over and flung her arms around him, resting her head on his chest.

"Who's on the phone?" Joanne mouthed.

Collins held up a finger as a sign for Joanne to wait, and then said into the phone, "Yeah, whatever...No, Joanne didn't tell me, because I just got home. Therefore, it would have been impossible for me to know whatever the hell went on this past hour because I wasn't here. Does that get through your thick skull? Good. Here's Joanne." Collins handed the phone to Joanne, whose eyes widened. She slowly took the phone from Collins' hands.

"Baby, I think we should leave the room," Joanne heard Angel say.

"But wh——"

"Now." With the little strength she had, Angel dragged Collins out of the living room/kitchen to explain the situation, leaving Joanne alone with Maureen on the other line.

She gulped. "What is it now, Maureen?" Joanne heard Maureen clear her throat on the other line.

"I would just like to say that your behavior in SuperMart was absolutely uncalled for, Joanne. It was embarrassing, rude, and disrespectful, and I deserve an apology."

"We were both acting like idiots, Maureen. The world doesn't revolve around you."

"Pookie, you—" Maureen had begun a sentence and stopped short. There was dead silence. The last time Maureen had called Joanne her pet-name of "pookie" had been before the argument that had started the whole mess in the first place.

"I...you..." Maureen stuttered, "...Forget it. Forget I ever called, okay?"

_Click._ She'd hung up. All Joanne could do was stand there, still holding the phone in her hand.

_We're not okay yet_, she thought, _but maybe we're getting closer..._


	9. What to Do?

**A/N: Thank you SO much for all of the reviews so far! Only a few more chapters after this one...Enjoy!  
****DISCLAIMER: Rent belongs to the late, great Jonathan Larson.

* * *

**

Walking in on Mimi and Roger in the middle of the night was something Maureen tried not to do very often, unless she wanted yet another lecture from Roger about how she needed to respect the privacy of others. But Maureen needed someone to talk to—_girl_ talk.

She tapped Mimi's shoulder lightly. "Hey...Mimi.._Hey_!"

Mimi, who had been cuddled up against Roger, groaned and put her pillow over her head. "Is it morning already?" she muttered.

"No. I need to talk to you," Maureen replied in a loud whisper. Mimi let out a sigh, crawled away from the warmth that was Roger and followed Maureen into the living room/kitchen. They both sat down on the tattered couch, and that was when Maureen spoke again:

"I miss her."

Mimi blinked a couple of times before smirking wickedly. "See? What did I tell you a week ago? I _knew_ this would happen."

Maureen rolled her eyes and snapped, "Shut up, Mimi. I don't know what to do. She's probably still mad at me. And I'm still mad at her...kinda. Sorta. Okay, I'm _not_ mad at her anymore. What should I do?"

"Well..." Mimi thought for a moment, resting her chin in her hand. "Call her?"

Maureen shook her head. "She'll hang up," she answered sadly.

"You could write her a letter," was Mimi's second suggestion.

"That sounds like something from a cheesie romantic chick-flick," Maureen muttered, snorting.

Mimi giggled. "Okay, you're right. I'm out of ideas. Can I go back to bed now?"

"Fine, Miss Marquez. Be that way." Maureen muttered in mock-anger, causing the two friends to laugh.

"You know, Mark's still got the hots for you," Mimi called over her shoulder as she walked back to Roger's bedroom.

Maureen nodded. "Yeah, I know," she said in a hushed voice, "I know..."

* * *

"This is...awkward." Joanne coughed loudly, watching Angel and Collins vigorously making out on the couch. She'd come home from work to find the couple quite engaged in—well—each other.

_At least Angel's feeling better today_, she thought, trying to keep a positive attitude. The awkwardness of this particular situation also came along with a feeling of slight amusement. Collins and Angel hadn't even noticed her walk in. Hell, they weren't even picking up on the fact that she'd just spoken about how uncomfortable she was.

_...And I coughed pretty damn loud, too!_

Angel let out a squeal. "Collins...Aah! Stop that!"

Joanne blinked and tried to look at the dark blue clock on the wall as it ticked slowly rather than glare at Collins, who was doing something not-so-appropriate with Angel.

She coughed again, prompting Angel to look up. "Oh...shit," she whispered, elbowing Collins so that he was sitting up, too. "How long have you been here, honey?"

"Long enough. Looks like you two were having a great time...Sorry I interrupted," Joanne replied. She closed her eyes warily for a brief moment. Between the incidents with Maureen and working on a tough trial case, this past week had been a hassle.

"Joanne, you okay? You look like you're gonna pass out," Collins asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend, wrapping his arms around Angel and pulling her onto his lap.

Joanne nodded slowly. "I'm...fine," she replied.

"No you're not," Angel said flatly, running over to Joanne and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, "I can tell. You look pale. Collins, doesn't she look pale?"

Collins shrugged, feeling slightly rejected because of the fact that Angel had stopped giving him all the attention. "Baby, I have no freakin' idea." He turned to Joanne. "But what I _do_ know is that I think you need some rest, Jo."

"But I...was gonna help make dinner, since you haven't been feeling all that great," Joanne muttered, turning to Angel.

Angel stared at Joanne for a brief moment, her head tilted to the side and her eyebrows furrowed. Joanne, who was slightly disturbed by the fact that the drag queen was staring at her with such intensity, shuffled over to the couch and sat down.

Finally, Angel said, "Ah-ha. Collins, I think I know what's wrong with our Joanne."

Collins got up and walked over to Angel, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. "What?"

"Yeah, what?!" Joanne snapped, standing up, "I think it's strange how my friend knows what's wrong with me when I don't."

Angel smiled. "Oh, I think you do, dear. See, you have a rare and severe case of I-Miss-Maureen sickness."

Collins burst out laughing, resting his chin on Angel's shoulder. "I agree."

"Okay, this isn't funny," Joanne protested, crossing her arms in front of her chest, "I do _not_ have..." She formed her fingers into air-quotation marks, "_I-Miss-Maureen sickness_, or whatever you call it."

Angel blew off her last comment by replying, "Yes, you do. And there's only one way to treat this. You have to go see her, make up with her, and then go out for ice cream."

Joanne looked up from staring at the floor. "Wait. What's with the ice cream part?"

Angel giggled. "I always think it's sweet when back-together couples go out for ice cream to celebrate."

"You're strange," Joanne mumbled. Yet she couldn't help but smile.

She knew exactly what she needed to do now.


	10. Forget Me Not

**A/N: ONE MORE CHAPTER AFTER THIS, FOLKS! R&R, please!  
****DISCLAIMER: Rent belongs to the late, great GENIUS that is Jonathan Larson.

* * *

**

Mark Cohen had been thinking so hard for the past few minutes that his head was beginning to hurt. Tremendously.  
_She doesn't love me anymore. She never will. I have to let this go. I _have_ to...God..._

He gulped, staring down at his hands. He was nothing to her. _I'm not anything to anyone_, he thought bitterly, clenching his fists. _I can't do this anymore..._

Mark's thoughts were interrupted as he felt someone wrap an arm around him. He turned to face the one person he'd been straining himself just thinking about: Maureen Johnson.

"Hi," she said softly. Mark stared at her for the longest time, trying not to show any kind of emotion. Finally, she spoke again: "I'm getting out of here, Mark. I just wanted to thank you for, you know...putting up with me for almost a month."

Mark still said nothing, prompting Maureen to exhale another one of her dramatic sighs and say, "I know how you feel, Mark. I may be a little flighty sometimes, but I'm not stupid." She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Mark? Please. Talk to me."

"No one cares either way," he spat, "And no one ever will. So you might as well just get the hell out of here and forget about me."

Maureen shook her head. "This is exactly why I wanted to talk to you before I left. Listen to me, Mark. You and me...it just didn't work out. But you know I still love you lots," she said, smiling brightly. Mark resented the fact that he was doing everything he could _not_ to smile back—her smile was contagious.

"You're one of my best friends," Maureen continued, brushing a strand of dark curly hair behind her ear, "and I don't know what I'd do without you. I know you still have those feelings that I thought we'd both gotten rid of when we broke up...and that's okay. But I don't feel the same way for you anymore." She took a deep breath and watched Mark nod slowly. "Are you okay?"

He nodded again, looking up at her with sadness in his eyes. "I understand."

"I would never, _ever_ forget about you, Marky." She leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek before pulling him into a hug. "You know we all hang out at least once a day...How could I forget about you even if I wanted to?"

A small smile graced Mark's lips, and he replied, "I don't think I could forget about you if you were a million miles away."

* * *

Angel hop-skipped into her tiny apartment after a good two hours of drumming out on the street. She was surprised to find only Collins sitting on the couch in front of her; apparently he had just arrived home from NYU.

"Hi, honey," she chirped, running over and giving Collins a kiss, "Where's Joanne?"

Collins smiled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "She left," he replied.

"Oh. Where'd she go?"

This time Collins chuckled lightly at Angel's naivety. "Angel, she _left_. As in, she finally got up enough courage to go home. I had just walked in when she was leaving. She says to thank you for everything...although she'll probably get to see you within the next couple of days."

Angel's eyes widened. "Really? My God, I was beginning to forget what it was like when she wasn't around!" she exclaimed.

Collins smiled, slinking his arms around Angel's small waist. "I haven't drawn a blank when it comes to that, baby."

Angel giggled, resting her head against Collins' chest. "Well, you were always very forgetful, Tom. You should work on that."

"Excuse me, Miss Angel?" Collins teased. "Care to repeat that?"

Angel leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "...No."

* * *

"Roger! Look!" Mimi Marquez called out to her boyfriend from the kitchen.

Sure enough, Roger padded out of the bedroom, guitar in hand. "Where's the fire?" he asked sarcastically.

Mimi pointed to a piece of paper resting on the island table. Roger picked it up and began to read the sloppy cursive handwriting on it:

_Hey guys,_

_Just wanted to leave you a little note to thank you for everything. Yeah, I never usually thank any of you for anything because I usually forget, or possess a lack of interest in doing so. But thanks. I'm outta here (Yes, Roger, I took my rubber ducky so it doesn't disturb you while you're showering anymore), to hopefully make sense of myself...or something like that. Whatever. See you guys later. MIMI, CALL ME!_

_Love, hugs, and kisses,  
__Maureen_

Roger rolled his eyes at the random heart doodles that had been drawn in pencil all over the paper. Very typical of Maureen.

"I guess it was nice of her to thank us, huh?" Mimi inquired, lacing her fingers with Roger's absently.

"Well, she finally left, thank God."

He received a slap on his arm in reply. "...Ow."


	11. I'm Going Home

**A/N: FINAL CHAPTER! Thank you, everyone, for reviewing all this time. You guys are amazing. Yes, the title of this chapter is a Rocky Horror reference in case anyone was interested. Look at my other stuff (and more in the future) and review it! Thanks!**

**FINAL DISCLAIMER: Jonathan Larson owns Rent. Durr.

* * *

**

Joanne Jefferson knew she didn't have any time to lose at this point. She was going home...to her _real_ home. She was almost positive that Maureen wouldn't be there when she opened the door, but it was nice to think so. Either way, whatever crap Maureen planned to throw at her in the future was something that Joanne was ready for now. She wasn't going to put up with anyone stepping all over her, especially Maureen Johnson

But she'd also learned a lot of things to better herself as well. _I need to watch my tongue and be more patient_, she'd concluded over the past few days, _'Cause otherwise I'll be going nowhere fast..._

She was afraid of what would happen between her and Maureen, although she wouldn't dare admit it. Whether things would work out for the better or for the worse was something Joanne left up to "The Big Man Upstairs". _I need a hand, God. Care to help me out?

* * *

_

"Yeah, so Maureen went home yesterday," Mimi Marquez said into the phone receiver nonchalantly, spreading some jelly on her peanut-butter sandwich with one hand and holding the phone with the other. "Roger said he thought she'd never leave..." A pause as Mimi let the person on the other line speak. "No kidding?! Oh, my God! I was waiting for this to happen...Chica, I'm _telling_ you I knew this was gonna happen...No, I don't think I'm some kind of psychic, I just _knew_."

Mark Cohen, followed closely by Roger Davis, entered the kitchen area of the loft. Mark reached for the bag of bread and the strawberry jam.

"Who are you talking to?" Roger mouthed to Mimi, who rolled her eyes.

"Hold on a sec, chica." She put a hand on the receiver. "It's Angel. Joanne decided to go home yesterday, too! Do you believe it?"

Mark looked up from pouring himself some apple juice. "Really?"

"Yeah, they just happened to decide to go back to their house at the same exact time right?" Roger mumbled, "Dear God, that sounds like something from a bad chick flick. A bad, lesbian chick flick."

Mimi personally put the phone down to grab the butter knife and jokingly pretend to stab him.

"You're lucky that stupid thing doesn't have a sharp edge!" Roger shouted, ducking from Mimi's swings. Mark chuckled and sipped his apple juice.

Meanwhile, Angel was still talking on the other end: "Mimi? You still there?...Mimi?!

_¿Dónde estás?_ Ah, mi Dios, you're not trying to kill Roger again, are you?"

* * *

"OUCH!" Maureen screamed loudly. She was unpacking all of her belongings and arranging them where she saw fit, but considering the fact that she had dramatically thrown all of her stuff on the ground before sorting it out, she was tripping over every article of clothing in sight. At this point, she was stumbling and falling onto the hardwood floor every two minutes or so, and was getting frustrated. She decided to take a break and sit down on the bed.

Surveying the entire room, Maureen observed that besides the clutter she'd brought in, everything had been untouched since she and Joanne had left. There was the picture of the two of them that Mark had taken sitting on the dresser. On the bureau sat a random bottle of perfume that Maureen remembered using the night before she'd packed her bags.

"God...Everything's the same," she whispered out loud, "...But..._we're_ not."

"We can be," a hushed voice replied, prompting Maureen to jump and turn around to face the doorway.

Joanne Jefferson was standing there, suitcases in hand, an eyebrow raised. "Hurricane Maureen just struck this bedroom, I see. You do plan on cleaning that up, right?"

"You always were a neat freak," Maureen replied, standing up and hesitantly taking a couple of steps toward Joanne. She watched as Joanne calmly placed her suitcases in the corner of the room and ran a hand through her dark hair.

"So..." Maureen muttered, "What are you...doing here?"

Joanne chuckled lightly. "I was just about to ask you the same question."

Before either of them could say anything more, they were in each other's arms. Maureen was crying silently, resting her head against Joanne's shoulder.

"I'm...so...sorry," she choked through her tears.

Joanne kissed the top of her girlfriend's head. "It was my fault too, Maureen...it's okay...we're okay..."

They held each other, not caring how many seconds, minutes, hours went by as they stood there in the middle of the room, making up for all of the time that had been whisked away from them.

* * *

"So, you two are officially back together, huh?" Collins inquired, his arms wrapped around Angel who was smiling brightly at the reconciled couple. The entire group of friends were gathered, once again, at the loft.

"Yup," Maureen chirped. Her arm was linked with Joanne's, their fingers intertwined.

Mimi clapped excitedly. "It's about damn time, you idiots! You know you love each other!"

Joanne smiled sheepishly, prompting Maureen to giggle.

"That's so _cute_," Angel squealed, prompting Roger to fake-gag.

"Why are you girls always so corny?" he asked, munching on a chip from a can of Pringles. "This kind of shit makes me sick."

Collins and Mark burst out laughing in unison, while Mimi huffed and crossed her arms. "You're losers. All of you."

"But do we take part in real-life soap operas? No, thank you," retorted Collins, his hands in the air. Angel rolled her eyes and slapped his arm. Normal conversation began afterwards.

"Oh, by the way," Maureen faced Mark, Roger, and Mimi. "I am never moving in with you people again. It was bad enough being with two of you idiots in high school. Living with you here sucked."

It was then that everyone had a very strong feeling that Maureen and Joanne would gladly make up from an argument than ever "move out" again. Maybe they would even stop fighting for a while.

"Let's have a dance-off!" Maureen shouted. Her friends glared at her quizzically.

Joanne turned to face her girlfriend. "Why would we have a dance-off?"

"Because I said so," Maureen replied flatly.

"I hate dance-offs."

"Since when, pookie?"

"Since forever, Maureen. Who would want to have a dance-off in Mark and Roger's living room?"

"_We _would!"

"That is the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Well, it is nice to dream, isn't it?"

_**FIN.**_


End file.
